Knocked Up Sunshine (Sterek)

Chapter 12

Robin Frydryk Hale.

He looks exactly like Derek, green eyes, a tuft of jet black hair, and impressive eyebrows. The only thing showing that he's Stiles' kid is the constellation of freckles along his lower back and baby butt, which can only be seen when they bathe him or change his diapers.

Just like his Mama's, Derek has said, which Stiles would smack him for if only it didn't end with Derek wanting to make sure it's identical by stripping Stiles butt naked and having his way with him.

Enough inappropriate talking.

Robin is hands-down the cutest baby in town. Stiles is not being subjective, okay? But at three months old, his son is already making all the elders and baby lovers on the street stop and coo every time they pass by.

"What a beautiful name, what does—"

"Don't—!"

"—it mean?" an old lady asked.

Everybody groans.

Stiles grins because it's his favorite question and he never gets bored of answering it, "Well, because I'm his father, and I'm Batman."

A snort, "You're practically the mother."

"Shut it, Jackson, don't kill my thunder."

"He was named after his late great-great grandfather, Robert," Lydia explained with a sweet but creepy smile, ignoring Stiles' murmuring grudgingly 'no, a batman character' beside her.

Robert Hale was indeed the greatest Alpha Warrior and carved his glorious name in werewolf history, and Derek worships the ground the old man's buried in, but whatever, Stiles still named his son to be the Robin to his Batman.

Robin just wiggles in Stiles arms, smacking his uncoordinated chubby fists on his mother's chest as he gurgles, unaware of the debate occurring on his name.

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"You're doing good, Son?" His dad asked occasionally over the phone. The man still worries about him sometimes. Stiles guesses old habits die hard.

Stiles is exhausted. But he looks at Derek's figure on the couch, exhausted too and dead to the world. Their son lies on him, chest to chest, having cried bloody murder not an hour ago but now sleeping as deep as his father. His tiny body lifts up and down at every soft breath of Derek's. His father's strong arm wraps protectively around him. Derek is in his grey sweatpants and plain white Henley, while Robin is in his baby blue onesie.

They look so soft and fluffy and like everything that's good in Stiles' life.

Stiles' lips curve a private smile, "Yeah, Dad, I'm good."

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It's Summer when Stiles and Derek finally tie the knot, not in Spring like they had planned, because their newborn needed their undivided attention and they agreed that Robin came first.

Yet, Summer is still perfect for the wedding, the weather is bright and beautiful. The pack looks vibrant and happy.

That, and Lydia Martin is a genius queen.

The backyard of the Hales has turned into a garden of white roses, with lines of chairs entangled with white ribbons, facing an arch made of white roses.

Under it, Derek stands, handsome in his black tux in contrast of everything white around him. His heart drums in his chest, nervous, excited, scared, impatient, and everything in between as he waits for his mate to show.